


Pressure (Make Me Lose Control)

by steamyaffair



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:31:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steamyaffair/pseuds/steamyaffair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin discovers he loves having a full bladder. The feeling of weight and pressure arouses him, and makes for a terrific wank at the end of the day. So he starts to do things like purposely not relieving himself even when he needs to, and gulping down water in large quantities. Arthur notices these changes, but doesn't understand them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pressure (Make Me Lose Control)

It was purely due to Merlin’s laziness that he discovered how much he enjoyed a good wank with a full bladder.

He’d spent the entire previous day running errands under a summer sun, gulping skin after skin of water to slake his thirst. Utterly exhausted, Merlin had collapsed onto his bed with a fleeting thought of _maybe I should undress_ before succumbing to the temptation of slumber.

When he woke in the early dawn hours, he was faced with two problems. A) An urgent need to piss, and B) Morning wood.

Merlin, like most young men, knew that attempting to use the chamber pot in his aroused condition would likely result in an erratic, ill-placed spray. He also knew that a quick wank would solve this problem. So, he opted to take care of his sexual urge before attending to the more basic need to relieve himself.

Shoving his trousers down to mid-thigh, Merlin licked his palm and proceeded to jerk himself into oblivion. Normally, he would have like to take more time and draw out the pleasurable touches and strokes - but he wasn’t in a ‘normal’ situation.

As he tugged at himself, he became acutely aware of the _urgency_ in his bladder. It had felt almost painful in the beginning, but now that he was stroking himself, those uncomfortable feelings faded away and left him with a persistent, tickling kind of pressure in his lower abdomen.

Merlin focused on that. He stripped his cock mercilessly and clenched his jaw shut to stifle the yelp that threatened to escape his lips when he finally came.

Shuddering and half-unconscious, Merlin fished his chamber pot out from under his bed and guided a steady stream of urine into it. He shivered and moaned, stroking his cock as it emptied the contents of his bladder into the bowl.

Once finished, he laid back across his bed as he fought to reconcile the two instances, wondering how the need to piss coupled with his need to come had fused together like that. Then, Gaius was shouting and the litany of chores that rained down re-directed Merlin’s thoughts away - but not before he’d flagged them for further inspection at a later date.

“Coming!” Merlin smirked a bit, changed his clothes and bolted out of his room ready to face the day.

*~*~*~*~*

_Nearly there, nearly there_ Merlin chanted in his mind as he raced through the halls of the citadel.

Skidding to a halt outside the court physician’s lodging, Merlin hastily jabbed his key into the lock and wrenched the door open. He flew across the room and up a brief flight of stairs, banging the door to his own little room shut behind him.

He dropped to his knees and fetched the chamber pot out from under the bed. Groaning, Merlin yanked the laces of his trousers open to free his cock. For a moment, he let the soft length of flesh lay in his open palm. The _pressure_ to relieve himself was nearly all-consuming.

Nearly.

Merlin bit his lip and leaned over the pot, lightly massaging himself as he did so. He recalled being in a similar state before the mind-blowing wank from a few days ago and decided to test a theory.

Making sure to position himself over that piece of crockery in case of a mishap, he stroked himself erect. The conflicting sensations of _pressure_ and _pleasure_ warred for dominance in his mind. Biting his lower lip, Merlin pulled at his cock until it was hard and weeping - willing the pleasure to overtake that other, _full_ need.

It built quickly; Merlin gasped and his eyes rolled as his release painted the interior of the chamberpot. He stared at the milky white streaks for a moment before curling forward to relieve his bladder.

The relief was _intense_!

Merlin’s eyes slammed shut and he let out a soft cry as he continued to tug at himself until his bladder was empty. Afterwards, the young warlock collapsed sideways so that his body was only held erect by the frame of his bed.

Pushing the pot away with one foot, Merlin staggered up and collapsed across his bed. He could barely make sense of what he’d done. “Oh,” he panted out-loud, “I think that was a bit _too_ much...”

*~*~*~*~*

After that, it became something of an experiment. At least, that’s what Merlin told himself when his inner voice suggested that he might be a bit of a kinky wanker.

He tried drinking a full water-skin before bedtime, then wanking first thing in the morning. It was nice, sort-of - but the ache of his bladder almost edged out the pleasure of his self-touch.

He tried drinking two or three water-skins before dinner, then wanking off before going to bed - but it wasn’t quite enough _pressure_ to recreate his previous accidental successes.  Also, he usually had to wake in the night to relieve his bladder - and that wasn’t fun at all.

Finally, he discovered that drinking steadily throughout the day, without relieving himself - or only relieving himself once, usually led to an acute _awareness_ of tingling pressure that peaked just before dinner. If Merlin was lucky, and he contrived to be _lucky_ as often as he could, he could arrange for a private moment in his tiny room to enjoy the tickling, persistent pressure _pushing_ him towards orgasm.

“Oh yeah... oh! Oh! OH!” Merlin’s breath caught in his throat and he groaned as his bollocks drew up tight. Then, his consciousness was carried forth on a wave of sexual release closely followed by the physical relief of his bladder emptying into the well-used bowl of crockery.

With slow blinks, Merlin acknowledged the mixed liquid in his chamber pot.

“Yup,” he murmured to himself. Kinky wanker. Merlin let out a heavy sigh and consoled himself with the knowledge that at least he could keep this to himself. After all, he hid his magic - how hard could this little concealment be?

Of course, as soon as Merlin began to take to this routine, Arthur took notice.

*~*~*~*~*

“A bit thirsty are we, Merlin?” Arthur remarked one afternoon as he fidgeted with the laces at his cuffs. He was the picture of nonchalance. Prat.

Merlin lowered the water-skin and tucked it into his belt with a shrug. “I suppose.” He had aimed for ‘casual’ but the tone of his voice carried hints of ‘suspicion.’

Arthur tutted and turned to pick up his over-tunic. “Perhaps you’ve too much salt in your diet.” The Prince pulled the garment into place and added, “I’ll speak with the Steward and see that your meals are amended to omit any salted meat.”

Merlin closed his eyes and counted to three, thankful that his back was to his master. “I am _grateful_ for your interest in my diet,” he hesitated for a moment before adding, “Highness.”

“It is my duty to ensure you are well looked after,” Arthur agreed, his hand landing heavily on Merlin’s shoulder. “I’m sure your delicate constitution will thank me.”

Merlin turned and was confused by the concerned expression on Arthur’s face. “Yes, I’m sure it will.”

Arthur’s smile was warm and satisfied. His hand lingered on Merlin’s shoulder and he looked as though he might add to his previous statement when Sir Leon knocked on the door and announced that the Prince was late for dinner.

Appearing somewhat flustered, Arthur swept from the room and Merlin’s hopes of left-over pork roast - not to mention pork-cracklings - were dashed.

*~*~*~*~*

Aware that Arthur was observing his water intake, Merlin found himself going to greater lengths in order to consume enough liquids during the day. He sneaked sips while Arthur was preoccupied with training, indulged in long drinks when left alone in the armory and casually drank from a cup during mealtimes.

Merlin _loved_ that his little secret had taken on this new aspect. Not only did he have a goal of reaching a full - but not _too_ full - bladder to wank off before dinner, he had to be sneaky about it. It became a kind of game, in his mind.

If, due to his near constant observation of the Prince, Arthur happened to feature prominently in Merlin’s fantasies - well, that was to be expected. After all, he was a decent looking bloke. His hair smelled nice and his lips happened to be a girlishly kind of red - anyone would toss off to that. Right?

Over the summer he made a careful observation of the Prince’s routine and adjusted his own accordingly. It couldn’t be helped that he found himself watching Prince Arthur more than a typical servant might be expected. Merlin had to stay on his toes, after all. He had to maintain his secrets while ensuring his master never discovered them.

Therefore, it came as a bit of a shock when Merlin realized he had developed something of a crush on Prince Arthur.

“Oh, of all the stupid - most inconvenient -” Merlin muttered to himself as he furiously scrubbed at Arthur’s boots.

“What, Merlin?” Arthur asked, stepping into the armory.

“What - what?” Merlin dropped the boot and jumped to his feet, “I don’t know what you mean.” He paused while Arthur stared at him. “I didn’t do it - or if I did, I didn’t mean to.”

“Alll - riiight,” Arthur began, then shook his head, “I think you’ve had a bit too much sun, Merlin.”

“Sorry?” Merlin picked up the boot he’d dropped and peered anxiously at the Prince from under his dark fringe.

“I’m not sure how to say this,” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and Merlin tensed, expecting the worst. “It’s just - I notice that you continue to drink quite a lot of fluids and maybe you ought to speak with Gaius about it.” His blue eyes searched Merlin’s face as though seeking validation for his theory. “If you have a touch of sun-stroke, it might explain your erratic behavior.”

Right.

“I’ve never heard of sun-stroke, Highness,” Merlin lied, “I’ll be sure to ask Gaius about it.” He smiled and nodded to the boot in his hand, “After I’m done with your armor.”

“No,” Arthur stepped forward and took the boot from Merlin’s hand, “you need to see him right away.” He pulled Merlin to his feet and shoved him out the door. “Make sure you’re well enough to work in these conditions,” he called after Merlin’s retreating back.

Of course, Merlin was perfectly fine and perfectly capable of working under any conditions. Cursing his complacency, Merlin decided to take a break from the routine he had developed and try adhering to more ‘normal’ drinking patterns. He only drank when he was thirsty and made a point of taking small, casual pulls of his water-skin when in the vicinity of the Prince.

All seemed to be going well, until the first autumn hunt.

*~*~*~*~*

“But surely you don’t need _me_ to come along?” Merlin complained as Arthur dictated a list of essential weapons and equipment needed for the outing.

Arthur turned his head towards Merlin, incredulity written across his features, “Of **course** I will need you, _Mer_ lin,” he barked a laugh, “You’re my bloody _manservant_ \- you’re expected to be at my side.”

Merlin winced and felt his cheeks flush with shame. “It’s just - I can’t contribute anything, can I?”

The prince paced over to lay his hands on top of Merlin’s shoulders. “You’re not expected to ‘contribute,’ Merlin - you’re expected to serve.” Arthur’s sky-blue eyes held Merlin’s gaze, his brows arched expectantly.

“Yes, of course, Your Highness,” Merlin conceded. He jerked himself out of Arthur’s grasp and returned to the packing.

After a pause, Merlin felt Arthur’s hand on his shoulder again, “Would it help if I said I couldn’t bear to be parted from you?” His voice was low and suggestive. Merlin tensed, waiting for another mocking retort. Arthur couldn’t possibly be interested in _him_.

“Merlin,” Arthur said his name softly, without any hint of reprimand or mockery.

Turning, Merlin found himself face-to-face with the Prince. Arthur was close, very close. His breath held hints of wine and cinnamon; his eyes were dark and dreamy. Merlin felt a sudden urge to lurch forward and make a fool of himself by trying to kiss the heir of Camelot.

He was saved from that horrible impulse when the door to Arthur’s chambers burst open and Sir Leon asked if the Prince was ready to depart.

Arthur continued to stare into Merlin’s eyes. His eyebrows knit together for a moment as if he were trying to puzzle something out. Then, Merlin ducked his head and the spell was broken.

“Merlin will bring down the remaining articles,” the Prince explained as he turned away from his manservant, “I’ll inform my father that we will depart within the hour.”

The door to Arthur’s chambers clicked closed and left Merlin alone.

*~*~*~*~*

It was only the first day and already the hunt had Merlin’s nerves in tatters. He’d had to use magic _twice_! How he’d ever thought he could leave Arthur alone for ten minutes - much less an entire fortnight - Merlin had no idea.

“Strange how that tree limb happened to fall at the same time Sir Bors’ crossbow mis-fired, isn’t it?” Arthur mused aloud. He was leading his his horse through a nasty patch of briars with Merlin at his side.

Merlin grunted an assent and risked a tiny bit of magic to make the bothersome briars retreat enough to let them through.

“Are you thirsty?” Arthur suddenly asked.

“Wot?” Merlin stumbled and was caught by Arthur’s firm grip on his elbow.

“Easy there,” Arthur said, smiling. He retained his hold on Merlin’s arm and held out his waterskin. “Need something to drink?”

Merlin felt himself flush, remembering the last time he’d tossed off before relieving himself. Embarrassed, he shrugged his shoulders and stared at the ground.

Arthur released Merlin’s elbow and ran his hand up to his shoulder. “I know how the heat affects you, Merlin. Say the word and -”

“I’m fine,” Merlin interrupted. He raised his eyes to meet Arthur’s. “You needn’t concern yourself with me.”

A long minute passed. Then, Arthur released his grip on Merlin’s shoulder and turned back to his horse. “Very well, make yourself useful and clear a way through these brambles.” His voice was as stiff as his posture.

“Yes, your Highness,” Merlin mumbled.

*~*~*~*~*

The tension between Merlin and Arthur continued to grow. For his part, Merlin tried to avoid the Prince - but Arthur would have none of that.

“Merlin, where is my crossbow?” Arthur asked, absently reaching back for the weapon.

“Merlin, the maps. Now!” Arthur shouted as he and the knights argued over their _exact_ location.

“Merlin, I need someone to see about the stone in my horse’s shoe,” Arthur remarked before pressing the reins into Merlin’s hands and sauntering over to where Leon and Gwaine were pointing out a boggy bit of land and shaking their heads over the map Merlin had only recently provided to the Prince.

“Merlin, find someone to send word back to Camelot about this flooded area,”

“Your Highness!” Merlin, stood with his hands on his hips. “I could do that.” He glared at the Prince and added, “I could do that _easily_.”

Arthur squinted and shook his head, “No - a messenger will suffice. Now, I think we’ll set up camp … here.” The Prince pointed at an obscure location on the map. “Centrally located and accessible to the best hunting grounds.”

Merlin stood silent and expectant.

“Well, go on!” Arthur urged, “You’ll need to see to my tent and other such arrangements, right?”

“Of course,” Merlin answered in a flat voice. “I’ll just see to those matters, then, shall I?” He stomped off before Arthur had a chance to call him back.

*~*~*~*~*

That evening, Merlin watched Arthur drink and make merry with his knights from a comfortable spot at the edge of camp. 

“You should consider yourself lucky, you know,” another manservant, George?, took the time to inform Merlin.

“Is that right?” Merlin asked, dryly, “Seems to me his ‘high-and-mighty’ might benefit from a week or two of looking after himself.”

“Prince Arthur?” George gasped, “But he’d never have the time - it’s a wonder he makes do with only you.”

“Go on, pull the other one,” Merlin quipped, pushing himself to his feet before seeing to the Prince’s evening routine.

“You don’t deserve to serve him,” George said with a sad shake of his head. “That man - our Prince - puts everyone else’s needs before his own.” George looked wistfully at young heir, “He’ll make a fine King.”

It was true - even if Merlin didn’t want to admit it to himself. Arthur was forever asking after members of his knight’s families and doing his best to look after everyone like some kind of overgrown sheepdog.

Maybe he _didn’t_ really worry about Merlin’s drinking habits. Maybe Merlin was misinterpreting Arthur’s interest because of his own self-consciousness. Maybe Arthur really didn’t care a whit for Merlin or any of Merlin’s antics but only asked after him out of a sense of duty.

That realization should have made Merlin feel better. Instead, he felt heart-sore.

Somewhat chagrined, Merlin made his way over to Arthur’s tent. He lit the brazier and laid out the Prince’s bedroll before tending to the bits of armor and leather Arthur had discarded earlier. He’d only been at it a short time when the tent flap drew back and Arthur stumbled in.

“Highness!” Merlin shot to his feet, dropping the leather wrist-guard he’d been oiling.

“Merlin?” Arthur’s gaze was a bit unfocused, “Why’re you still up?”

“Er, your leathers - but...” Suddenly, Merlin felt out of place and he tried to dodge past Arthur in order to let the Prince sleep off his wine in peace. Except, Arthur caught him by the sleeve.

“Running away?” Arthur swayed slightly and released his grip on Merlin’s tunic in order to stagger over to his bedroll and collapse upon it.

Puzzled, Merlin asked, “Um, did you need something?” He looked around the tent and spotted a waterskin that Arthur might be grateful for in the morning. Plucking it up, he strode over to kneel beside his Prince and set the waterskin next to his shoulder.

Arthur turned his head and gripped Merlin’s sleeve once more, “I _need_ you to trust me, Merlin,” he whispered earnestly.

Merlin sat back, staring. “I _do_ trust you, Highness.” he stammered as he tried to tug his sleeve out of Arthur’s grasp.

Arthur *tsked* and let go, causing Merlin to sprawl backwards. “No,” he sighed, turning his face away from Merlin’s, “But I wish you would.”

Merlin was left to watch Arthur’s chest rise and fall as the Prince slipped into slumber. He tried to make some sense out of the Prince’s words and failed. Whatever had been going through Arthur’s mind was probably due to the wine, he reasoned. As such, Merlin decided to chalk the entire conversation up to royal inebriation.

*~*~*~*~*

Over the next ten days Merlin remained quiet and obedient. He was determined to simply _serve_ \- as that was all that was expected from him.

He endeavored to draw as little attention as possible, and yet Arthur _continued_ to ask after him and his bloody drinking habits.

“You’re not even drinking as much as the pages,” Arthur commented after Merlin had, once again, insisted that he was perfectly hydrated thank-you-very-much. “And they’re eleven!”

“I’m not thirsty,” Merlin hissed. Noticing one of the knights gesturing urgently, he added, “Sir Kay is making signs at you,” Merlin continued in a whisper, “I’m pretty sure he needs you to go kill something or other.”

Arthur jerked his head over his shoulder and waved off Sir Kay’s frantic gesticulations. Biting his lower lip, he turned back to Merlin. “Drink this - now.” He thrust a full waterskin into Merlin’s hand and waited.

Merlin stared at it, then ground his teeth. “If I give it back to you empty will you please attend to your knights?”

Arthur agreed with a terse nod.

Smirking, Merlin unplugged the stopper and tilted the waterskin towards the ground. The water splashed against their boots and the forest floor. Belatedly, he realized his mistake as his cock stirred in response to the memory of this sound in an entirely different setting. Merlin felt himself blush as he recalled the last time he’d _come_ before immediately relieving himself. Unfortunately, his prick felt no shame by rising in response to the memory.

Thankfully, Arthur’s livid features took away the edge of his arousal - but not before he noted the Prince’s gaze flick between the waterskin and Merlin’s trousers.

No. Please no.

Merlin thrust the empty waterskin at the Prince and crossed his arms defiantly. “Your word.”

Arthur held the skin loosely in his hand as his eyes searched Merlin’s face. Finally, he nodded and turned to join his knights.

Then, he turned back to Merlin and tossed the waterskin at his manservant’s head. “Make sure that’s full for me by the time we return, _Mer_ lin.”

Merlin snatched it out of the air and frowned after the other man.

Bugger.

*~*~*~*~*

Merlin fretted all through that afternoon for more than one reason.

Sure, the idea that Prince Arthur _might_ have cottoned on to the fact that Merlin _might_ become aroused due to _slight_ ly unconventional circumstances was alarming.

More alarming was the fact that Arthur and his knights had stumbled upon a Hydra’s nest.

_Well, that would account for Sir Kay’s panicked behavior_ , Merlin thought as he scootched up next to where the Prince was lying with Arthur’s entire arsenal in tow.

“That’s a Hydra!” Merlin squeaked, earning him a few glares from the knights and one very speculative look from the Prince.

“What do we know about Hydras?” Arthur asked in a low voice.

Merlin watched the other knights and saw blank bewilderment written across their faces.

“I’ve heard that if you cut off one head - it will grow back twofold,” Sir Galahad whispered.

Arthur frowned and said, “So, decapitation is out of the question?”

“No,” Merlin was surprised by his own voice.

“Merlin?” Arthur looked over his shoulder to fix his manservant with a sharp gaze. “What do you know of these creatures?”

“I only know what I’ve read,” Merlin sputtered hastily, “In the library and in Gaius’s workshop.”

“Well,” Arthur hissed, “Spit it out.”

“What Sir Galahad said is true - if you cut off one head, another or maybe two will grow back,” Merlin closed his eyes and tried to recall the exact bit of text he’d read, “But if you cauterize the neck -”

“Cot -er - what?” Sir Kay interrupted.

“Burn the stump,” Arthur explained quickly. He turned back to Merlin, “Are you sure of this? If we can cut off the heads and burn the stumps …”

“That should do the trick,” Merlin nodded.

“Right, you stay here.” Arthur commanded Merlin, his eyes _insisting_ that Merlin comply. As if Merlin were **_insane_**! He nodded and watched Arthur and his knights descend upon the deadly creature.

The battle was relatively short, but nearly every knight had an opportunity to prove himself - seeing as there were seven heads on the beast to begin with and Merlin felt a flare of pride well up within him when he watched Arthur strike off one of the beast’s heads and immediately thrust a burning brand onto the severed neck.

Once the dirty work was over, everyone needed cleaning up. Merlin worked hard alongside the other servants to scrub gore out of the knight’s armor as well as fetch clean water for the champions to wash themselves with. The camp took on a holiday sort-of air while the pent up adrenaline and over-worked nerves relieved themselves via various pleasures of the flesh.

Wine casks emptied quickly as men who thought they would surely perish drank their fill. The knights extolled each other’s prowess in battle and many a man raised their cup in honor of Prince Arthur. For his part, Arthur drank little but smiled a great deal and encouraged the men in their celebration.

Towards sundown, Merlin took a drink from his cup and began to edge away from the camp. It had been weeks since he’d indulged himself in _that_ particular way and the excitement of the day combined with his earlier encounter with Arthur’s waterskin had only served to re-awaken Merlin’s interest.

After all, no-one would miss him in all that fuss. He could stray away with no-one the wiser.

Merlin’s footsteps were light upon forest floor, he stepped quickly - not out of haste, but in order to distance himself in case of -

“Where are you off to, Merlin?” he heard Arthur ask from close behind him.

“Er,” Merlin stammered, “going for a slash?”

“Well, you’re not going alone - remember that bloody, huge monster we killed today?” Arthur asked, grabbing Merin’s sleeve. “What if it has a mate or something?”

“I can take care of myself,” Merlin insisted, trying to tug out of Arthur’s grip.

Arthur’s smile seemed almost _fond_ in the dim light. “Oh, _Mer_ lin,” the Prince sighed.

Merlin jerked out of Arthur’s grip. “It’s only a visit to the privy,” Merlin said, “Hardly worth your attention.”

“I’m not a fool, Merlin,” Arthur insisted, stepping closer. He caught Merlin’s wrist and dragged him further away from the hunt-camp. “I know there’s more to it than that.”

Merlin’s mind whirled as he tried to come up with some sort of plausible story that would encompass all of his bizarre behavior. His rampant thoughts were curtailed when Arthur said:

“It can’t have escaped your notice that I’m …,” the Prince halted abruptly and Merlin stumbled into his back, “But then, it is _you_ so maybe it has …”

“Have you finished manhandling me for the evening,” Merlin hissed, tugging ineffectually at the Prince’s grip.

Arthur suddenly turned to face him, “Merlin - you _must_ know that I’m … I’m ...”

“What?” Merlin asked, shaking his head, “Difficult to please? Impossible to understand?” He tried to pry Arthur’s fingers off his wrist.

“Interested!” Arthur blurted.

Merlin’s fingers froze and he simply blinked his confusion.

“You … _interest_ me, Merlin,” Arthur hastened to explain, “I thought you might feel the same way - but lately you’ve been acting more weird than normal and I can’t understand why!”

**That** broke the spell.

“Why does there have to be a reason?” Merlin asked quickly, plucking at Arthur’s grip on his arm, “Why can’t I just be ‘weird’ and chalk it up to my country charm?”

‘Because I _know_ that it has to do with something secret and I can’t just let that go,” Arthur explained in a resigned tone of voice, “I’m heir to the throne of Camelot - I need to know my trusted friends and advisors are just that! Trusted.”

Arthur’s eyes seemed to _plead_ with Merlin - but Merlin had no idea what to say. Then, “What if it wasn’t something secret?” Merlin asked, “What if it was just … private.”

“Can you explain the difference to me?” Arthur stepped closer and ran his hand up to Merlin’s shoulder.

“I - ah, that is …” Merlin swallowed, “A _secret_ would be intentionally hiding something that may harm Camelot.”

Arthur ran his other hand up Merlin’s opposite arm, “Go on.”

“Whereas _private_ would mean some kind of personal preference,” Merlin hoped the Prince wouldn’t ask him to elaborate. “Nothing to do with anyone else.”

Arthur huffed, “That just means I have to trust _you_ and your judgement.” He gripped Merlin’s shoulders.

There was a heavy pause. Arthur appeared to be considering his options and Merlin wasn’t too keen on the direction they were leaning.

“Merlin, all I’m asking is that we trust _eachother_.”

For a moment, Merlin was tempted to just give in. “No, you have enough to make fun of me without this.” He tried to pull away but Arthur held him fast.

“I don’t want to taunt you, Merlin,” Arthur insisted, pulling Merlin closer. He brushed a thumb along Merlin’s jaw, “I’d never _taunt_ you about something _private_ ,” Arthur murmured, “not about something that might bring you … pleasure,” he placed a soft kiss to the corner of Merlin’s mouth.

Merlin’s mind spun as he fought to link Arthur’s actions with his words. Everything pointed to Arthur _knowing_ and yet he couldn’t know! Merlin had been so careful - he’d gone out of his way to avoid notice! He wanted to melt into Arthur but remained stiff and wary instead.

“Shh,” Arthur’s breath whispered across Merlin’s cheek, “I promise - no, I swear,” Arthur vowed, “I swear that whatever your _preferences_ are? They will never color my opinion of you - nor will I ever speak of them without your consent.”

Merlin held himself rigid, untrusting, and on the verge of horrified.

“You see, I thought you had a lover,” Arthur continued softly. When Merlin opened his mouth to deny anything of the sort, Arthur pressed two fingers to his mouth - effectively silencing Merlin’s retort.

“Several months ago you … changed,” Arthur looked as though he were casting about for a way to describe that one word. “You would show up to serve at dinner with a … certain kind of -” Arthur cleared his throat and said, “ _satisfied_ air.”

“But -” Merlin tried to interject.

“Hear me out - Merlin,” Arthur said urgently. “It _infuriated_ me. God, it’s almost a relief to say this,” he muttered in an undertone, then continued, “I waited for the gossip - for any _hint_ of the identity of your lover - I knew if you’d been taking up with someone it would eventually reach my ears.” Arthur stopped and smoothed Merlin’s fringe away from his forehead before continuing. “It never did.”

“Obviously!” Merlin hissed, “I’ve never -”

“So then,” Arthur continued, cutting Merlin off, “I had to wonder why you appeared to be so thoroughly _sated_ just before you were meant to serve me at dinner.”

Arthur stared pointedly at Merlin. Merlin shifted uncomfortably under the intense scrutiny.

“More to the point, I was forced to question why I _cared_ ,” Arthur said quietly. “I - I **hated** the thought of another person touching you … _pleasing_ you...,” Arthur’s voice hitched a little. “Then, I noticed you watching me as well.”

The air between them seemed to be charged - like the moment before a lightning strike. Both men held perfectly still.

“Well, once I sorted that out, I started to pay more attention to your movements throughout the day...” Arthur leaned in for a brief kiss. “I think I might know what you like - but I want you to help me understand it,” he breathed against Merlin’s lips.

“Arthur - I… Don’t -” Merlin trembled under the Prince’s touch.

“I want to _share_ this with you,” Arthur murmured, before kissing Merlin once more, “Let me?”

“I can’t -” Merlin flinched and turned his head aside.

“Shh,” Arthur whispered against his jaw, “You _can_ , Merlin - I promise that you can.”

They remained tense and frozen, locked together in an awkward embrace, until Arthur drew his head back and said, “Show me.”

Merlin felt hopeless, his eyes pricked with tears.

Arthur pulled him close and kissed Merlin’s damp temple before turning Merlin in his arms so that the young man’s back was flush to his chest.

“Show me, Merlin,” Arthur whispered into his ear, “Please. I want you to”.

It was a bit awkward. Merlin’s fingers trembled as he attempted to undo his laces and eventually Arthur’s fingers took over the task. Merlin turned his head, questioning Arthur even as he drew his half-hard cock out of the confines of his trousers. He lifted his hand to spit into his palm but found his wrist captured by Arthur. Then, the Prince held his gaze as he laved a wet path across Merlin’s palm with his tongue.

“Please,” Arthur growled, his blue eyes _smouldering_.

Merlin set to with a vengeance. He tugged and stroked himself with Arthur’s breath hot on his neck, having never felt so aroused in his life. A quiet moan escaped his lips and he felt Arthur’s mouth press a kiss to his throat.

“That’s it,” Arthur whispered before sucking at the base of Merlin’s neck. “It must feel good to you like this,” Arthur continued, “Can you tell me?”

“Full,” Merlin choked out, “It’s a - a - _heaviness_ ,” he thrashed his head to the side at this admission, “I don’t know - I can’t -”

“But you like it,” Arthur insisted, calming Merlin with soft kisses and gentle touches, “You like feeling this way - full and heavy - you like the way it makes you feel?”

“I do,” Merlin groaned, his hips rocked backwards and Merlin could feel the rigid line of Arthur’s erection against his hip. The knowledge that his actions - and the reason behind those actions - caused Arthur to be aroused as well made the blood in Merlin’s veins sing! He gasped, feeling his balls draw up tight in anticipation of his imminent release.

That small sound seemed to unlock whatever reserves Arthur had been holding back. “I’d love to take you like this,” he whispered and Merlin shivered in his arms. “I would watch you,” Arthur continued, “watch you all day, ensure you drank enough to make you feel like _this_ \- then I’d bend you over and fill your arse with my cock.”

Merlin keened at the words - hips stuttering in the Prince’s grip.

“That’s right,” Arthur panted into Merlin’s ear, “I’d fill you up, Merlin - Christ - I’d fuck you so full,” He swallowed thickly, “And you’d love it, you’d love it and take it all, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes - yes,” Merlin sobbed, his hand flying faster, twisting and pulling.

“Shh, I know … I know,” Arthur nuzzled and sucked on Merlin’s neck, his hand moved over to cover Merlin’s, stroking his cock together. “You’d wait to come until I say so, wouldn’t you Merlin.”

It wasn’t a question - it was a statement of fact. Merlin nodded.

Arthur sighed and continued his attentions to Merlin’s cock while his lips tasted every part of Merin’s neck. “A few moments more, Merlin - you can do that , I know you can.”

“I need to come,” Merlin whispered, “I - it feels like too much.” Every moment was perched on the brink of pleasure and something-more-than-that. The ache, the pressure, the _need_ …

“Now, Merlin,” Arthur breathed into his ear.

He jerked and shuddered in Arthur’s arms, spilling himself on the ground and shaking through after-shocks as the tempo of the Prince’s hand slowed to a lazy caress. It was _so good_ \- Merlin couldn’t believe how incredibly relaxed he felt. All that tension gone, leaving only the ache of his full bladder.

“Beautiful,” Arthur murmured against the skin of Merlin’s neck. He nosed up and down his manservant throat, all-the-while nudging Merlin’s hip with an unrelenting hard-on. Merlin’s shoulders hunched and he felt tears squeeze from between his lashes. If he could somehow escape and take care of the _urgent_ need to relieve himself alone, maybe Arthur -

“Now, let go,” Arthur whispered.

Merlin went stiff - he couldn’t! But Arthur’s hands were moving, one reached up to tilt Merlin’s head to the side in order to allow better access to his neck. The other hand moved from his cock to press against Merlin’s lower abdomen.

“Let go, Merlin.” Arthur bit Merlin’s earlobe gently, “Show me everything.”

Merlin couldn’t hold back. The need for release was there before Arthur had even stepped onto the scene - the fact that Arthur was pressing on his bladder eliminated any control Merlin could have hoped to have over the situation. He succumbed with a mournful whimper.

The sound of a steady stream of piss hitting the mulch of the forest floor resounded in Merlin’s ears. His cheeks blazed as he watched the long golden stream arc away from his body. He tried to prepare himself for an angry tirade or vicious shove from Arthur - he was completely unprepared for the long groan of satisfaction that reached his ears.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Arthur panted, absently rolling his hips against the back of Merlin’s hip.

Merlin held himself perfectly still, unsure he had heard correctly. After all, he’d just been served his biggest fantasy up on a platter - this had to be some kind of dream or hallucination.

“Tell me how it feels,” Arthur said, trailing his fingers through the coarse hair at Merlin’s groin.

Feeling as though the entire situation was a bit surreal, Merlin answered quite frankly, “It’s a tremendous relief.” The stream died down to a trickle and Merlin gave himself a little shake but didn’t try to tuck his cock away just yet.

Arthur chuckled, low and suggestive against the back of Merlin’s neck. Merlin felt him place a kiss there, then another, “I’m sure it is.” They remained in a companionable embrace for a few moments, then Arthur stepped back and turned Merlin around to face him.

Merlin couldn’t - wouldn’t meet Arthur’s eyes. Not that Arthur seemed to care, he ducked his head and caught Merlin’s mouth in a sweet kiss that promised so much more than Merlin could ever have expected. He coaxed Merlin’s lips open with swipe of his tongue and cradled Merlin’s face as he plundered his mouth.

When Merlin fisted his hands in the Prince’s tunic and pulled himself flush against Arthur’s body he couldn’t ignore the Prince’s undiminished arousal against his belly. Merlin broke off and stared down at the significant bulge in Arthur’s trousers. Arthur continued to kiss and suck on Merlin’s jaw as the manservant tentatively cupped his master’s cock.

“You don’t need to -” Arthur began, but Merlin ignored him as soon as he _felt_ the hot hard length he’d been fantasizing about and dropped to his knees before his Prince. With surprisingly deft fingers, he undid the laces to Arthur’s trousers and pushed them open.

Merlin took a moment to admire Arthur’s cock before licking a wide, wet strip up it’s length, gripping Arthur’s hips as he did so.

“Merlin!” Arthur sounded almost shocked - but more overwhelmed at the spontaneous action. Merlin did it again - and once more - before sucking the head of Arthur’s cock into his mouth. As much as his earlier release had been a relief - the weight and taste of Arthur’s cock on his tongue was _more_ of one. He never realized how much he needed the Prince’s prick in his mouth before that very moment.

It was a short-lived revelation as Arthur choked out a desperate cry after only a few moments. He curled over the top of Merlin’s head, at the same instant flooding Merlin’s mouth with the bitter tang of royal semen. Still, Merlin swirled his tongue around the Prince’s softening cock and suckled it gently before finally drawing away.

He couldn’t bring himself to meet Arthur’s gaze. He felt the weight of Arthur’s hand on his bowed shoulder, felt the Prince try and drag him upright by his tunic - he resisted, remaining on his knees, staring at the ground instead. When Arthur knelt down before him and cupped his face with sword-calloused fingers, Merlin reluctantly lifted his eyes.

“Whatever is going through your mind right now, Merlin, had better be to do with how good you feel or,” Arthur smirked, “how good you made _me_ feel.” His eyes searched Merlin’s and he frowned. “Merlin, you _did_ like it?”

“Oh yes,” Merlin breathed, “I did,” he nodded, “I especially liked making _you_ feel good.”

“I liked that too,” Arthur said, “making _you_ feel good, I mean - not that I didn’t like the other as well, obviously but -”

Merlin hushed him with what was meant to be a quick kiss but soon turned into a whole lot more.

_***Epilogue***_

Merlin trotted through the citadel’s stone corridors, his arms full of greenery. He only had to drop the boughs off at the main hall before attending to the Prince. A smile tugged at his lips as he made his way up to Arthur’s chambers.

He entered to find Arthur slouched in a chair next to the fire. “Preparations for the mid-winter feast are proceeding apace?” he inquired casually.

“Indeed they are,” Merlin answered. He stepped to the wardrobe and pulled out a scarlet tunic made of velvet. “Will you wear the red tonight?”

“Hmmm,” Arthur was suddenly at his back, radiating warmth as he pulled aside the ever-present neckerchief in order to lick Merlin’s throat, “Do you prefer me in the red, Merlin?” His voice was soft and amused.

“I do,” Merlin answered, turning to meet Arthur’s lips with his own. He writhed in Arthur’s embrace - utterly incapable of keeping still while the Prince leisurely made love to his mouth.

“Come and have a cup of wine with me,” Arthur murmured and Merlin’s eyes flew open.  “I want to celebrate the longest night _our_ way,” Arthur continued, dropping a kiss to Merlin’s wrist as he guided him to the table.

“Our way,” Merlin sighed contentedly. He accepted his cup and under Arthur’s watchful eye, drank deep.


End file.
